


The Usual Runaround

by BloodFromTheThorn



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-23 00:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodFromTheThorn/pseuds/BloodFromTheThorn
Summary: All things considered, their day could be going worse. Being tied up in what may or may not be a torture basement with some superficial injuries might rank pretty highly on most people's 'Things Have Gone Badly' scale, but working with The Phoenix tends to skew one's perspective. That doesn't mean Mac has to be happy about it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	The Usual Runaround

**Author's Note:**

> So this doesn't have any plot really - I'm just doing some conversation bits to get the voices of the characters straight in my head before I work on the longer fic I'm planning :)

"You know, this is your fault."

"Oh yeah? How's that exactly?"

"I told you to run."

Limited as his range of movement was, what with being tied to a chair, Jack still took the opportunity to twist in place and shoot a venomous look at his partner. "Oh, yeah," He said sarcastically, "I remember now. You started screaming some nonsense about me leaving your skinny ass behind, right?" He huffed sharply, letting some of his genuine annoyance show through for just a moment. Even after all these years, the kid still hadn't  _ fucking  _ learned. "As if that option was ever on the table."

"You had a clear exit," Mac argued instantly, not for the first time. "I didn't. You could have got out of the warehouse and rounded up some help so we wouldn't  _ both  _ be stuck in this pit without any back up on the way."

"You're leaving out the part where those mercs would have put you down in an instant if I wasn't there to stop them."

Mac hummed, choosing to ignore the entirely valid point laid out before him. Jack was right - the only reason the mercenaries hadn't shot him on sight was Jack shooting back at them and piquing their interest enough to opt for capture rather than kill. Regardless, that reasoning still left the both of them high and dry, injured, and without any rescue on the horizon. "I would have thought of something."

"You wouldn't have had a chance to with a bullet in your brain. Damn it Mac-" Jack cut himself off, taking firm hold of the anger threatening to bubble up his throat and drowning it calmly in the depths of his gut. Mac was just working off adrenaline and Jack knew that. It wasn't the kid's fault that Jack kept replaying the sight of him on his knees with a gun barrel pressing harshly against his temple over and over again; the resulting nausea was enough to make him green. He sucked in a heavy, shaking breath and held it for as long as he could. 

"Sorry," Mac said quietly after several moments of stilted silence, his voice soft and regretful. Apparently he'd finally twigged that Jack was genuinely upset with him. "I know you wouldn't leave me behind. I appreciate that, I really do. I just wish you weren't trapped here with me."

Jack sighed roughly, twinging the maybe-possibly-almost-certainly broken ribs on his right side in the process, and tried very hard not to feel guilty about drawing that hesitant, injured tone out of his partner. "It's okay, I know you don't mean nothing by it. Just wish you had any self-preservation instincts at all, hoss."

"I manage."

"You do  _ not. _ I'll never understand how you made it as long as you did without me watching your back."

Mac huffed, amused rather than offended. They'd had this conversation before. "Ye of little faith."

"I got all the faith in the world in your skills, hoss, just not always in your survival instincts."

"Well, I appreciate that- I think. Now let's just hope that I can get us out of here before those guys come back and put those instincts to the test, yeah?"

Jack craned his head to try to see what Mac was doing with his hands, but the angle was too sharp and he gave up the attempt when his ribs protested. "How's it going?"

"Getting there," Mac reported, trying to feel along the rope around his wrists to ascertain how much further he had to go before the nail he'd dug out of his chair would sever the bond entirely. "More than half way."

That was good news, but Jack wasn’t entirely thrilled with the strained, breathless way in which Mac said it. He wiggled again in a desperate attempt to get a good look at the man behind him. “And how about you? You hanging in there?”

Mac scoffed. “I’m fine. You’re the one they had to pummel into submission.” A brief pause, then, “Are you hurt?”

“Ah, y’know me. Day’s not complete before I’ve earned a couple of bruises. Got nothing serious going on. And don’t think for a second I didn’t see those guys knocking you around too. Talk to me man, what’s going on with you?”

“You were barely conscious, how on Earth were you paying attention to what was happening with me?”

“Always paying attention to you. Never know the trouble you’ll get yourself into if I’m not watching. Stop dodging the question Mac.”

He sighed, momentarily pausing in his efforts to hack through the rope to take stock of himself and bring everything back into balance. Jack was right - he  _ was  _ hurting, but truthfully he didn’t think it was anything too serious. A black eye, some pretty heavy bruising, and something that he hoped was a sprained ankle but was in all likelihood a small fracture. Nothing that was going to kill him, and probably not enough to seriously slow him down, which was all that really mattered while they were still trapped down here. Still, Jack wasn’t about to let it go without an honest answer. 

“Bruised. Sore. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Anything serious I need to know about?”

“Don’t think so. Ankle might be a problem if we have to run though.”

Jack’s expression twisted in frustration even though there was no one there to see it. “Broken?”

Mac hummed noncommittally, offering a shrug that Jack couldn’t see. “Not sure. Let’s hope it’s not. This day is going badly enough as it is.”

“No arguments here.” Jack twisted his hands for the hundredth time, ignoring the quiet blaze of rope burn with practiced ease. No matter what he did, he remained stuck tight. “You know, when we get out of here, I think I’m going to ask Matty for a holiday. Think she’d go for it?”

Mac huffed a soft laugh. “I’m sure she’d agree, but when was the last time either of us managed to go a week without getting dragged back in for something apocalyptic?” 

“A guy can dream, can’t he?”

“Well, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you. Besides, with the way you’re wheezing, I’m pretty sure you’re getting bounced to medical leave the moment we get back. They break your ribs?”

“Not rightly sure. Certainly didn’t feel pretty.” There was a loaded pause. “Ey now, I can hear you thinking over there. I’m doing just fine, don’t you worry about me.”

Mac hummed, low and distantly annoyed. “You should have run.”

“Man, we’ve been over this, it was never going to happen.” Despite the warning bell in the back of his head that usually sounded when something was off with Mac, Jack couldn’t help but let frustration leak into his voice. “How many years have we been running together? You’ve gotta know by now that anyone shooting in your direction is going to have a problem with me. And that ain’t ever going to change Mac. We have each other’s backs, remember?”

There was no response, Mac evidently unwilling to share whatever twisted mentality had crawled into his head and made him believe that Jack’s life was somehow more valuable than his own. It was an old problem, one that Jack had long since grown adept at dealing with, and while he was proud to say that over the last few years Mac’s self-sacrificing nonsense had lessened dramatically, he had a feeling that the kid would never quite manage to shake it. That didn’t mean that Jack didn’t have every intention of trying to convince him of his worth for as long as he was physically able. 

“‘Sides which, Matty would have had my head if I told her I’d let you get kidnapped. There’s nothing these guys can do to me that’s scarier than that woman when she’s on the warpath.” 

That, at least, drew a snort of laughter out of Mac. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But you do know that she’s going to be just as mad at us later when we have to tell her about all of this.”

“We could just not mention it. Maybe she hasn’t noticed we’re gone.”

“Yeah, because dropping off comms in the middle of an active mission is definitely not cause for concern.”

“It was barely a mission. All we had to do was scout the warehouse.”

Mac huffed with laughter again, deciding that it was better to be amused by the ridiculous extent of their failure rather than upset. “I’m almost through,” he said instead of pressing the matter, carefully working the blunted nail between the final few threads of rope holding him down. His fingers felt tacky with blood where he had managed to slice into himself with the sharp edges of the metal, and both of his wrists had been chafed raw by the bindings, but those were all problems to be dealt with later. For now, all that mattered was getting free. 

It took another few minutes of sawing - and a fretful moment when Mac nearly dropped the nail in his eagerness to get the job done, finally - but eventually the rope snapped apart, and Mac was able to roll his shoulders for the first time in hours. After the chore that had been, it was but the work of a moment to untie his feet and cross to Jack’s side to release him too, getting his first good look at the man’s injuries in the process. 

“You look rough,” he said as lightly as he could while he worked at the ropes around Jack’s hands. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m peachy. Just get me out of here man.”

Fortunately for them both, it was substantially easier to untie Jack’s ropes than it had been to painstakingly saw through Mac’s, and in an instant they were both on their feet and more or less ready to move. 

“That ankle holding up?”

Mac shook his foot out, glancing at it curiously as though he’d be able to see any possible damage. “It’ll do for now. Ribs?”

“Still breathing. Okay, c’mon. I think I remember the way they brought us in. It’s not far. You stick behind me, you hear?”

“Always.”

Jack paused for a second, taking in the weight of that promise and letting it settle lightly in his chest like a warm glow, before he shot a sharp grin at his companion, and headed for the door. 


End file.
